On Sunday night, I stayed later than usual. The hospital was quiet, a tomb of linoleum and antiseptic. Derek came in around 11:00 P.M. He had another nurse with him—a woman I’d seen before but didn’t know. Her name tag read “Nurse Ratched,” a joke scrawled in marker over her real name, Brenda. They checked Meera’s vitals. Brenda…
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